


Red Holly and Hot Cocoa

by Darkflames_Pyre



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Bound Universe, F/M, Gen, I will ship these two til the end of time, Young Love, the bound universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 18:00:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18155177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkflames_Pyre/pseuds/Darkflames_Pyre
Summary: Jeff has a special surprise for Lucy. Can be read as TV or Movie-verse, but preferred to be read as part of Boundverse. Pre-'04 Film/TAG-compliant. An old fic, originally posted on fanfiction.net. Cross-posted here for continuity.





	Red Holly and Hot Cocoa

Tonight is the night. I can feel it.

My hands grip the steering wheel of my truck tightly; the leather skin firm and taut beneath my sweaty palms. The little sprig of holly hanging from the rear-view mirror swings gracefully in an arc as I turn into the street where Lucy has lived since we met.

It's hard to believe that it's been seven years since then; seven years since I met the love of my life. I know that things can change in a heartbeat, but in this instance, I know that my Luce is my one true love.

She is the single thing in my life that I know will never change. The fact that I call her 'My Luce' is enough to prove that. I couldn't have fathomed calling any of my other girlfriends something so affectionate.

She makes me feel like a puddle of mush. Every time her violet eyes meet mine, it's like I'm drowning. There is only her. It is why I'm here.

The leftover snow on the concrete drive sloshes wetly as I roll to a stop near the porch. I breathe in sharply through my nose, taking in the spicy scent of my father's aftershave, and the fresh smell that comes from countless packets of crumbly peppermints spilled onto the seat. It was his until my seventeenth birthday. Now it's mine, and I've long since made my own imprint on it, with the beer and the ensuing re-done carpet added to the sweat of times spent driving through the hot summer nights, as well as the cigarette smoke that has wreathed through it on occasion, from me and my father both.

I wonder if he'll approve of what I've managed to get up to in this car, but then I think about some of my teenage escapades, and conclude that he's probably better off somewhat oblivious. That's if he even is at all.

I shake my head rapidly, jolting myself out of the memories. _That isn't what you're here for, Tracy._ I tell myself sternly, closing my eyes to steady my suddenly very shaky nerves. _You're twenty-two years old. Buck up and just get on with it._

Without any further hesitation, I climb out of the toasty cab, and instantly flinch as the icy wind nips at my exposed nose and cheeks. Grabbing the bunch of flowers from where they lay on the passenger seat, I pull my coat more tightly around me as I slam the door and jog quickly up the porch steps, stamping away the dampness that has collected on my boots as I reach the door.

Raising a fist, I rap sharply on the wood, the sound almost drowned out by the thudding of my heartbeat. _You can do this, Tracy…_

I see that there are Christmas lights lining the porch rail, and the sign wishing visitors a 'Merry Christmas' is hanging beneath a green and gold wreath. It matches the doorknocker, I notice absently.

My hands are sweaty inside my gloves, and I have to make a conscious decision to loosen the muscles in my right hand, because I am squashing the roses that I bought especially for tonight. They are interspersed with leaves and berries from the same plant that donated the sprig in the car.

I am making sure that they haven't been damaged by my carelessness when the door opens, engulfing me in a rush of warmth and the strains of a carol, muted low in the evening air. My eyes fly upwards, and my mouth opens in awe.

She is breathtaking.

Her blonde hair is twisted up at the nape of her neck, the cascade of curls framing her face and dark eyes. She has her coat on, but it is unfastened, so I am easily able to see the floaty shirt and knitted skirt ensemble she wears. The weather is too brisk for heels, so she has her snow boots on, the ones I bought her. They're fleece-lined black leather, so they work well with what she's wearing. I think so anyway.

She'd look good in a potato sack, my Luce, but I'd never tell her that in a million years. I like my privates right where they are, thank-you very much!

She arches an eyebrow and a smirk quirks her lip. "Honestly Jefferson; close your mouth before you catch flies."

My mouth snaps closed.

Luce grins at me, but then her expression changes to one of soft joy as she sees the roses.

"Oh, Jeff!" She gasps, reaching out for them reflexively. "They're beautiful!"

The red of the shop-grown flowers match the red lipstick on her lips and the berries in her bun are like the cutting in my car. I lean forward impulsively and capture her lips with mine.

It is over far too soon.

I make a somewhat indignant sound as she moves her face away, and she grins, only to link her own gloved hand with mine, and shout over her shoulder as she grabs her purse from where I know she keeps it next to the door.

"Mom! Jeff's here! I'll be home later!"

Luce is no longer a child, but I find it sweet that she still cares about her mother enough to tell her who she's going out with. As if there'd be anyone else who wouldn't come into the house. We spend almost every moment together that we aren't at work, but for whatever reason, I'm shy around her mother. Mom says that I should just ask her to find a place with me, but Dad doesn't approve of that one, he thinks that I should be married to her first. That's a big step.

It's a really big step.

##

The drive in the car is swift but full of laughter. I've turned the radio to her favourite country music station, and they're playing Christmas songs; all their usual ones suspended because it is Christmas Eve.

The small diner I've chosen is quaint and comforting, and I know that Lucy adores these things as much as I. Despite the lateness of the hour, we still order chicken pot pie, and half-glasses of ginger beer. It's a funny combination, the fare we've chosen, but we've been coming here on a Friday night since we began dating, and even though it's Christmas Eve, Daniel Lardner, the owner keeps the place open 'til well after midnight. It suits my purposes completely.

Luce's cheeks are flushed with warmth and pleasure; the room is empty but for the two of us. The tinsel above her head shines into her hair, lending sparks of gold and blue to the blonde curls. The red leather booth where we sit is worn and comfortable, and she runs her stockinged feet along my shins to tickle me, even when she knows that it will never work. I kick her lightly back to try and get her to eat. It is like having a small child around sometimes, but that is why I love her.

I tell her so, but instead of looking at all chastised, she only grins disarmingly and flings a pea across the table.

I give her a feral smirk in return, and catch the projectile in my mouth before it falls too low. She bursts out laughing at my surprise that I actually manage the old trick.

I lean across the table and caress her cheek, hoping to God I haven't just smeared sauce all over my new sweater. It's going to stain if I have.

Her eyes are a mix of bright silver, purple and green, and I am lost in their depths. God, I love her.

##

An hour later, dessert is done and Lucy is fretting that she doesn't have enough for her meal. She does this a lot, Miss Feminist, and I usually agree and humour her by waiting until she finds the change, but this time I'm buying.

She scowls at me; her pretty face screwed up in a very cute pout, but eventually concedes, seeing I am in a funny mood. It's not a bad one really; it's just that my insecurities are crawling into my gut again, and my palms are sweaty as I pull my wallet from my trouser pocket.

Mr Lardner catches my eye sharply as I hand him the fifty and ten-dollar bills, and I am struck by the shrewd suspicion that he somehow knows what is causing my nerves. I breathe in as I nod jerkily in acknowledgment, and grab Luce's hand for reassurance. We leave without me taking my change.

Back in the car, she is still pouting somewhat; her fingers tapping what I know are scales upon her lap as I steer carefully around the icy bends on the road that leads us towards the South Park. I glance over at her and grin, and her right eyebrow rises in incredulity as she suddenly realises where I am taking her.

"Jeff." Her voice is low and dangerous, but I just smile and press on. Her stubbornness means nothing here.

I pull up to the gate with a bump over the gravel road, and immediately get out of the car, pulling my knit cap low over my ears. Closing the door, I reach beneath the tarp and pull out a large box wrapped in canvas, before traipsing around to the passenger door.

When I open it, Luce is curled into the seat, her feet crossed beneath her skirt. She looks quite comfortable, but I know her well enough to see that she is just being stubborn again. I poke her in the shoulder, grinning madly, and she relaxes as she looks up at me, confirming my theory.

"C'mon." I tell her, and she smiles at me, her dimples showing against her pale skin. It is a new moon tonight, but in the absence of the light it usually provides, the lamps that line the walking paths are glowing at full strength.

I lead Luce through the park, our breaths emitted in puffs of foggy air, and she huddles close to my side as I balance the crate on my hip. I can see her eyeing it, wondering what on earth the crazy man is doing, but I just bite my lip and continue on until we get to the gazebo in the centre of the park.

I lead her up the solid oak steps, out of the softly falling snow, and press her gently down on one of the benches that run around the inside of the structure. Setting the box down, I pull out the half-a-dozen small lanterns that I pinched from the barn at home, and a handful of Mom's burned-down black-out candles.

I can feel Luce's gaze on me as I set each one tenderly beneath the seats on either side of her, but she sits silently, waiting for me to finish.

I am getting more and more nervous as the seconds tick by. Luce surely knows that something is up; she can probably see me flush by the additional illumination of the fairy lights strung up in the rafters, but I am nearly done.

Finally, all the candles are lit, and I have laid a picnic blanket out on the floor so it's not so cold on my knees. Patting the spot next to me, I reach into the box and pull out a thermos and two mugs.

She smiles radiantly and sits down softly at my side. I pour each of us a hot chocolate and add the homemade marshmallows; strawberry for me, vanilla for her. We both have a terrible fondness for sweets, but while I have to exercise religiously to keep the weight off, Luce continues to weigh almost nothing at all.

She finishes the hot drink in record time, and I have to admit that I'm not that far behind her. It is chilly tonight, but not as cold as it could be. It's fairly mild weather for Christmas, actually, but I should probably make this fast, as much as I want to treasure the moment.

I bite back an indulgent grin as Lucy looks up when I shift to put my mug down. I reach out with my thumb to wipe off the milk moustache she has, and her lips turn up in a smile as she realises what I am doing.

I shift onto my knees as I take a deep breath. This is the moment I've been waiting for.

Reaching into my pocket with the hand that I am not holding Luce's with, I clench in my grasp the small velvet box I have carried around for the past three weeks. Christmas is Luce's favourite time of year, so it is only fitting that I do this now.

I look up from my trembling fingers as I move them to open the box and turn the contents to face Luce.

"Lucille Evanson." I smile, rubbing her hand gently, even as my other one grips the box so it doesn't shake. "You are the brightest star in my universe, and the sweetest song I will ever hear. I love you with all my soul and heart, and I can't fathom a world without you in it. This is one of the scariest questions I have ever asked anyone in my life, but I hope that you will honour me by answering true to your heart. Will you, on this Christmas Eve, Lucille, agree to become the other half of mine?"

She looks at me wide-eyed, and I panic for a second as I realise that she has barely breathed, let alone been able to reply to anything since I have opened my mouth. I swallow heavily as I try and find saliva for my suddenly dry throat, and I run my fingers tentatively in a circle on the back of her hand to try and rouse her, choking back my panic at _why hasn't she said anything?_

"Luce?"

A moment where my heart feels as though it will begin to sink into my stomach, but then she nods, the curls that frame her heart-shaped face bouncing, as her violet eyes fill with joyful tears.

"Yes." She whispers. "Yes, Jeff, yes!" The last word is said in a shriek, before she throws herself at me, sending mugs flying, and me tipping backwards onto the wooden floorboards with a muffled _flump_.

I still manage to keep a hold of the ring box, but I wrap my arms around her slim form and hold her tight. I bury my face in her hair, inhaling the scent of cinnamon and lavender that is uniquely Luce. She pulls back almost eagerly, innocently, and I take the ring carefully out of the cushioning to hold it towards her.

Taking a closer look, Luce's lips part in surprise and awe as she realises what I have in my hand.

Her mother's own engagement ring, given to me with blessings from her father and mother both.

The diamonds have been replaced with amethysts to match her eyes, but the band and the cut is as same as ever, with the small stones surrounding the ring of sapphires that are clustered in the centre of the silver band.

One of her hands fly to her mouth, but I take the other left one gently in my grasp again. She relaxes enough to spread her fingers, and I slide it over her knuckle and into place.

As soon as it is done, she throws herself into my embrace again. She has set off a warm feeling inside my chest, and emotion chokes my voice as I whisper in her ear. I am glad to know that I will be doing this for the rest of our lives.

We breathe in as one, and I know that we have intertwined our fates forever.

"I love you. Merry Christmas, Luce."


End file.
